could point out the walkers by the difference in their whole air and complexion from those who have not yet warmed themselves by exercise.
It is just light enough to mend a pen when we separate for work.
We are not going to pore over books and desks till it grows too dark to go on. If the weather is open there is a world of business to be done in field, road, and garden; and we have to see that it is done. If the frost has overtaken us, we must skate and slide while we may. If repairs to buildings or walls are wanted, they must be done while the mortar will not freeze and spoil. If the seed is not all got into the ground, not an hour of open weather should be lost. Manure must be applied when the soil will receive it; and trenching must be done when the spade will enter the ground. All the lawns round must be swept clear of dead sprays from the trees, and of leaves, if they are to be properly rolled before the frost comes. All green walks and gravel walks must be kept in their neatest condition, for the pleasure of winter walking in them. Such green crops as have not been taken up before, must be secured now, if at all; so we see groups of women and children in the turnip-fields, topping and tailing the roots that the men have turned out of the ground. My boys and I are more interested in getting up roots of another kind. I tell the lads that while I am mourning over the felling of a fine tree, they are consoling themselves with the prospect of getting up the root next winter; and when the time comes they reproach me with enjoying the process as much as they do. I certainly do lend a hand at the end of the lever when the mass shows signs of stirring. I certainly do seize a pick, or mattock and wedge, when I see one to spare; and I own to sensations of satisfaction when I see the mass coming out of the ground piecemeal, or entire, and help to split and trim it for the Christmas fire. Then there is the work of cleansing the orchard trees, and the fruit bushes in the kitchen-garden. Damp mosses, and all that can harbour insects, must be removed from the stems, and the whole surface be washed with some mixture or other, according to the judgment of the proprietor. I use soot, quick-lime, and wood-ashes—a wash which one cannot suppose any insect likely to survive. The gooseberry bushes, however, require frosty weather for their relief from some of their enemies. Grubs that breed in the soil below are best removed when the earth is caked by the frost: so we take up the surface soil entire, and burn it, and put fresh in its place. If the bushes have not before been wound round and round with white darning-cotton (the supreme terror of sparrows), we do it now, to save the buds from the birds.
Settled frosts bring their own business as well as pleasure. Among the prettiest tasks is the cutting of ice for the fishmongers and confectioners, and for the ice-houses of the gentry round. When I was a boy, I used to fancy myself one of Captain Parry’s seamen, cutting an escape canal for his ship at the North Pole; and, under that delusion, I toiled myself into heats which might have melted the transparent floor I stood on. It really is pleasant work grooving the ice, and splitting it into blocks, and floating it off, to be fished on shore, loaded on the cart, and deposited in the ice-house, with powderings of small ice, to compact the blocks together. One item of the business done in frosts always saddens me. I do not like to see women—especially old women—or little children gathering up snow, even if it be of the cleanest, or ice when snow is not at hand, to melt for domestic use. When the pump is frozen, and the spring gives out no water, what can the people do, they ask, but melt snow or ice to wash their clothes, and their floors, and their skins?
It is a dreary necessity; and the invariable consequence is a great deal of business for the doctor. When I see a pan of melting snow within the fender, and the children pressing closer and closer to the fire because they cannot get warm, the old granny shivering, and finding it wonderfully chilly, I cannot make them believe that the melting process will account for it, because they do not understand how it can be; but they find my predictions of colds and rheumatism come true. It is a striking thing to them also that my pump is the last to freeze in the whole neighbourhood. They know that I take pains to keep it unfrozen, for the use of my neighbours as well as my household, and this convinces them that I am at least in earnest in my concern at seeing them chilling their rooms by melting snow on the hearth.
Through open and frosty weather, both, the domestic and farm animals require a large amount of daily care. Between cleaning them and their abodes, and cutting, cooking, and serving their food, and fattening and killing, there is enough for many hands to do. Now is the time for children to have fun with pet calves, and make playfellows of the house-lambs. Many an hour of a dreary day is beguiled by these friendships of the season, doomed to a speedy end by the butcher’s knife. The despotism of London tables is an irresistible one; and many a little heart is every season ready to burst when the dear lamb has disappeared, and nobody will tell where it is gone. At present, however, there is much pretty frolic,—the human infant having no more forecast than the brute one of the evil to come.
The poultry-yard is a grave interest at this season, in our neighbourhood as in many others. Our infant population, including my little Harry, would be well pleased if the turkies were absent, on account of the formidable character of the parent birds; but the rearing of the broods is an interest to all the household where it goes on. Our relations on both sides of the house like the good old custom of receiving a Christmas hamper of good things from us; and it is a pleasure to us to keep it up, so that we are as busy as our neighbours in fattening fowls and turkies, and making sausages and pork pies, and even a goose pie, now and then.
I do my part by going out for snipe and woodcocks, so that we can, on occasion, produce a veritable old-fashioned game-pie for Christmas guests. I am regularly invited into the kitchen, some morning about the 20th of December, to see the parcels of good things laid out for packing; eight